Читать книгу Brave Heart - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 6

“You are not going to take her with you.”

Wolf looked up from where he knelt at Cante Tinza’s side, now acutely aware of his hand on her shoulder. He held it there in a protective gesture when he saw the chief, Badger Mouth, approach him with a disapproving look on his face. The chief, more than sixty seasons in age, halted and glowered at him, hardening his weathered face. His words were an order, not a question. Around them, the warriors were helping the injured women and children to mount the extra horses, and none seemed interested in coming to Black Wolf’s aid.

“She saved the lives of our women,” Wolf countered in an equally authoritative tone.

“So Evening Star says,” the chief groused. He stood with the lance in his left hand, staring toward the south. “That sister of yours is like a blue jay, constantly chattering. All I heard riding here is that the red-haired wasicun saved our women and children from sure death.”

“She is a warrioress.“ Wolf grew sure of that as he had time to study her thin, bony features. Her forehead was broad and unmarred, her eyebrows arched like the curve of a hawk’s wing, and she had a small, dainty nose with flaring nostrils. Although she was unconscious, her lovely mouth was pulled in at the corners, indicating the level of pain she suffered even now. There was a vulnerability to Cante Tinza, and Wolf found himself wanting to draw her from the darkness she resided within and bring her into light. Each moment he spent with her increased his questions as to who she was and what she was doing with the miners. She couldn’t have been friends with the miners if she defended the Lakota women against them, he guessed. In his heart, he sensed that she’d been injured by them. Why? He had to have time to find out after she regained consciousness.

Badger Mouth snorted, watching through squinted eyes as the last of his warriors mounted. “You ought to leave her for buzzard bait just as we leave the other wasicun to them.”

“Even our enemy, the Crow, would not leave a woman to die in this manner.“ Women were held sacred in the eyes of the Indians, no matter what their tribe.

The chief glared at Wolf, his hand tightening on the staff topped with the skin of a badger. “It would go better in the village if she was Crow.”

That was true, Wolf acknowledged. They had captured Crow women who, over the years, had decided to stay in their village and not return to their home. The Lakota women had come to accept them as their own, with time. “Little Swallow feels she has been tortured at the hands of these miners.”

“She is wasicun, Black Wolf.”

Slowly lifting his hooded eyes, Wolf held the chief’s challenging stare. “No,” he whispered, “first, she is woman. We Lakota recognize the strength and courage of our women. She is one who gives us birth, who gives us life through the milk that flows from her breast, and who is able to give her blood back to Mother Earth every moon. As men, we can do none of these things, making us less important. We have nothing to compare to a woman’s sacredness.”

Irritated knowing that Wolf spoke the truth, Badger Mouth muttered, “Do what you want. You will anyway. But remember this, she is wasicun and, therefore, trouble. What of Deer Woman?”

“She lays claim to my heart, but I have told her that she pines for the wrong warrior. She does not hold my heart.“ Wolf slid his hands beneath Cante Tinza’s small shoulders and long, curved thighs, lifting her upward. As her head lolled against her chest, something old and hurting broke loose in Wolf’s chest. In the past four seasons, his heart had been cruelly torn with the loss of half his family at the hands of the greedy wasicuns who killed for the gold metal that peppered the Black Hills. As Cante Tinza’s cheek pressed against the region of his aching heart, he felt comfort for the first time since then.

“Ho! You make yourself twice as much trouble, Black Wolf. Deer Woman won’t take kindly to this wasicun sharing your robes and tepee,” Badger Mouth scolded.

Walking carefully toward his ebony mare, Wolf ignored the chief’s warning. Deer Woman was an eighteen-year-old maiden who had fallen madly in love with him years ago. He’d never invited her affections, yet she constantly hinted that she’d like to be his wife. He wanted a mature woman for a wife—not a child in a woman’s body. Swift Elk, a brave who had yet to count coup, could marry her, he told himself. He was as young as she, and pined equally to have Deer Woman for his wife, yet she foolishly spurned his advances.

“I will take this woman as I would any injured person into my lodge for care,” Wolf reminded the chief sharply. One of the older warriors, Tall Crane, held the woman as Black Wolf mounted Wiyaka. Wolf saw Tall Crane’s reaction to Cante Tinza as he patiently held her, waiting to transfer her to Wolfe’s arms once again. Did she have the ability to break down hated barriers with just her small form and fiery hair? Taking the woman from Tall Crane, Wolf settled her across his thighs, her body leaning against his.

“Who is she?“ Tall Crane wanted to know.

“A stranger.“ In more ways than one, Wolf thought wryly.

“Do you intend to keep her?”

“As a prize of war?”

“Yes.”

Wolf saw Tall Crane’s unbridled interest in the woman. Less than two seasons ago, he had lost his wife and son to an attack by the Crow. Since then, the warrior had been lonely, and in need of a family again. Although Tall Crane was well thought of in the village, and a good hunter, Wolf felt suddenly protective of Cante Tinza. “She is mine.”

A sly smile crossed Tall Crane’s ample features, his chocolate eyes dancing with amusement. “Ah, so the wapiya finally takes a woman. Many maids will have their hearts broken to see you ride into the village with this red-haired one in your arms as your chosen mate. No doubt you will train her in the medicine ways to help our people?”

Uncomfortable at the prospect of all the problems Cante Tinza would cause him because of his unexpected decision, Wolf glanced over at the gangling warrior, who rode a bay gelding. “If her hair is any sign, she will do exactly as she wants.”

Laughing heartily, Tall Crane slapped Wolf on the back. “Well stated, my friend. A woman with hair the color of fire. Are you blessed or cursed, I wonder?”

Wolf wasn’t sure. “She may not live long enough for either of us to know that answer.”

Sobering, Tall Crane nodded. “Evening Star said she is a warrioress. I honor her for that. I do not care if she has white skin. If she helped save our women and children, then I consider her one of us.”

Wolf glanced over at him. “Half the village will hate and distrust her. The other half will be wooed by her red hair, just as you have been.”

“I cannot deny it.“ Tall Crane frowned. “Deer Woman will take your decision with great sorrow.”

The sweet, innocent face of Deer Woman danced before Wolf’s eyes. “She is a child.”

“But with the body and desires of a woman.”

Grimacing, Wolf said, “I have laid no claim to her. I have made that clear to the chief, and to her family.”

Picking at the bay’s black mane disinterestedly, Tall Crane said, “Sometimes our heart chooses of its own accord, despite what our head tells us.”

In that moment, Wolf hurt for his friend. Tall Crane deeply loved his wife and daughter. In a Crow attack by One Feather, ten Lakota had been slaughtered. Even now, he could see the grief in Tall Crane’s dark eyes. “There are four maids who look for husbands now in our village. Can you not soothe your heart with one of them?“ Wolf asked quietly.

Patting his mount’s neck, Tall Crane shrugged. “None stirs my heart. I would do these fine maids an injustice by pretending otherwise.“ A sparkle came to his eyes. “Now, this red-haired one stirs me. She interests me.”

A slight smile softened the line of Wolf’s thinned mouth. “There is spirit and courage in this one,” he agreed.

“I honor your choice, my friend.“ And then the spark died in Tall Crane’s eyes. “But be careful. There are many who will hate her if she survives.”

“If you speak of Deer Woman’s reaction…I find her incapable of hurting anything or anyone.”

“She is as gentle as a butterfly,” Tall Crane agreed, “but do not be dissuaded by her demeanor. Thus far, no one has challenged her claim on you.”

“Deer Woman will be disappointed, but she would never lift a hand in anger toward me or this red-haired one.“ There were too many other concerns for Wolf to think about. The village had to be moved immediately. The women and children injured in the attack would need continued care and attention.

“I do not envy your position, Wolf. Your responsibilities are many besides having a heartbroken maid plus an enemy sleeping in your tepee. Be on guard.”

Secretly, Wolf acknowledged Tall Crane’s wisdom. Looking down at Cante Tinza, he prayed to White Buffalo Calf Woman to spare her life, to bring her back to the realm of the living. Then, another thought struck him. When she did regain consciousness, how would she react to being taken in by him and his people?

* * *

A low, gentle chant filled with emotion rippled through Serena’s awareness. The throbbing in her head gradually faded as she focused on the man’s voice. He sang in a language she’d never heard before, and yet the very tone wove a fragile web around her groggy state, holding her, comforting her.

She struggled to awaken, to pull from the darkness holding her captive. There was light in his song, and more important, her heart revolved toward him, toward the gentle, soothing tones. Gradually Serena became aware of her fingers. She flexed first one, and then another, realizing she was still alive. Flashes of the miners attacking the women and children surfaced. Each time a flash of memory hit her, her stomach knotted in unadulterated fear. And then she would cling wildly to the chanting song, finding a haven of calm within the melody.

Wolf smiled down at his three-month-old niece as he placed her into the beautifully beaded cradleboard. Softening the lullaby he sang to Dawn Sky, he watched as the baby’s eyes drooped until they closed. The darkness within the tepee was alleviated by a small fire in the center. Smoke rose in lazy wisps toward the opening at the top of the huge lodge. Something prompted Wolf to look across the expanse to where Cante Tinza lay beneath the buffalo robe.

Rising silently, he covered Dawn Sky with a small deerskin blanket and made his way to the red-haired one’s side. Four days she’d been unconscious. Would she awaken, or die soon? He wasn’t sure. Placing his broad palm against her cheek, he noticed her brow was marred with a frown. Easing the frown from her flesh with his fingers, he lightly caressed the rich crown of her copper and gold hair.

“Come back, Cante Tinza,” he called softly in his own language. Picking up one of Dawn Sky’s deer rattles, he shook it gently. He moved it from the top of her head slowly toward her feet. Although a child’s toy, it was also used to heal a baby or an adult from grievous emotional wounds. Black Wolf placed his palm inches above the region of her heart and felt heat. That meant she carried terrible wounds to her emotional spirit, which had to be healed in order to make her want to live and not walk across the Rainbow Bridge.

The flickering fire bathed her face in shadow and light. Wolf brought the rattle full circle over her, singing a chant that invited her broken spirit back to this realm. The song came from his heart, and he allowed all his tightly suppressed emotions for his dead family to surface. Closing his eyes, he visualized himself pulling Cante Tinza back from the Rainbow Bridge, pleading with her to return to the here and now.

Serena focused on the man’s voice, which wrapped itself around her heart and soul. The emotion wrenched at her, and she felt herself moving toward some indistinct golden light that seemed so far away to her. The chant was filled with hope, and she felt her heart burst open, spilling out all of its deeply hidden misery. She felt her eyes fill with the warmth and life of tears, which then spilled silently down her cheeks. Serena struggled, fighting to surface, to pull away from the darkness.

“Ah, so you hear me, Cante Tinza.“ Wolf placed the rattle aside and touched the tears that shimmered like molten silver down her waxen cheeks. Smoothing them away beneath his thumbs, he smiled for the first time. This was a good sign. His heart told him she lay between light and darkness now. That she wanted to return to the land of the living but was not ready to cross the Rainbow Bridge yet. Her face was tense and small beads of sweat formed on her brow.

“Don’t struggle so much, my Brave Heart,” he coaxed, taking a cloth and dipping it in a wooden bowl filled with fresh river water. “You will come back to me. I will sing you songs filled with hope and strength—a beacon in your darkness.“ Daubing her brow, he smiled as he saw the corners of her mouth begin to ease, the stress disappearing with each ministration to her forehead. The deer rattle had worked its magic, allowing Cante Tinza to begin to release her hurt and fear.

There was a scratch on the tepee. Wolf placed the cloth on her forehead and moved to the opening. It was late at night, and he wondered who it might be. Pulling the skin aside, he motioned for the visitor to step inside.

Deer Woman blushed deeply as she entered. “Black Wolf, I have come to offer my services to you,” she stammered softly, clasping her hands nervously in front of her.

Wolf sat back on his haunches, knowing that this confrontation had been long in coming. The morning he’d ridden into the village with Cante Tinza in his arms, Deer Woman had covered her mouth with a cry and fled to sob her heart out somewhere in the surrounding forest. He’d felt badly, but there was nothing he could do. If only Deer Woman would realize that he didn’t love her, that she must walk her path with another man.

“Sit,” he invited, gesturing toward a nearby buffalo robe.

Unobtrusively, Deer Woman sat, her eyes downcast. “I did not mean to disturb you, Black Wolf, but so many have needed your help in the past five days, I wanted to wait.”

Sighing, Wolf pulled up one leg, encircling it with both arms. At this time of night, he was dressed only in a breechclout. “I thank you for your sensitivity, Deer Woman. Now, what is it you wished to see me about?”

Her rounded face was softened by the firelight as she raised her black lashes and studied him nervously. “How is the red-haired one? I hear so much gossip. Is it true? Is she dying?”

Wolf shook his head. “There are signs she is ready to awaken any time now.”

It was true, rumors about Cante Tinza had abounded like wildfire. The reaction within the village had been sharp and divided. A number of warriors and wives had come to him directly, telling him that a wasicun was evil and bad luck to all of them. And quietly, as was his demeanor, Wolf acknowledged their concerns and then tried to convince them that Cante Tinza was not a threat. They’d leave, shaking their heads, still in disagreement with him but powerless to make him change his mind.

“Oh…“ Deer Woman unclasped her hands, resting them on the thighs of her deerskin dress. “Well, then, I come to offer you help.”

Surprised, Wolf ruthlessly assessed her. “What kind of help?”

“When Redwing was alive, she and her daughter lived with you. She cared for your needs while you supplied her with food and shelter.“ She motioned to the baby. “Now, you must raise and tend a baby daily without a woman’s help. And this red-haired one demands equal attention, plus our people look to you daily for healing. I can care for your niece as well as tend to this wasicun.” Eagerly, she leaned forward, her topaz eyes wide and begging. “I can cook and sew for you. I can ease the many burdens you must carry, Black Wolf. And before you say no, I have already gone to your sisters, Evening Star and Little Swallow. Neither can help you because of their own families and responsibilities, even though they may want to.”

Scowling, Wolf realized the wisdom of her words. “Deer Woman, if I accept your services, understand that it does not mean you become my wife.“ He bored a look into her golden eyes. She lived in a world of fantasy and hope, too young and unwilling to see the reality that he did not love her.

A hesitant, hopeful smile touched her bowlike lips. “I—yes, of course, I understand that. But the Lakota way is to aid those in need of help. My mother does not require me, and my hands are idle. Dawn Sky’s needs are many. Although my breasts do not carry milk, I can become her mother in all other ways. I know that Dove That Flies nourishes her along with her own child. I would gladly take over Redwing’s duties for you.“ Her voice trailed off and she looked longingly at Wolf’s set features.

Glancing at Cante Tinza, Wolf knew Deer Woman was right. The baby demanded full-time care. She had stood back and assessed the situation, showing him that she was capable of common sense. For that, Wolf was grateful. “Very well,” he said gruffly. He pointed to the buffalo robe that had been Redwing’s pallet. “You will stay with me until I ask you to leave. Until then, you will tend Dawn Sky and cook and sew for all of us.“ He made a point of gesturing to Cante Tinza. “For her, too.”

Deer Woman’s eyes widened. “But—I heard that you intended to keep her as a slave if she recovered. I would not be expected to sew or—”

“Cante Tinza deserves our help, not our placing her in a position of humility,” Wolf growled. “Do you reward bravery with slavery?”

Tears sprang to Deer Woman’s huge eyes. “Then—then you intend to take her as a…wife when she is well?”

“I intend,” Wolf snapped, “to allow her to make her own decisions. She is not our prisoner. We do not own her.“ Anger simmered deeply within him as he watched Deer Woman struggle with the all too vulnerable emotions that crossed her face.

“But—Tall Crane said you claimed her for your own.“ Her voice was strained and subservient.

“I claimed her so that she would be allowed the freedom that she has won by defending our women. Whether she stays or goes is up to her. By claiming her as my woman, I make sure no one challenges her on that issue.”

Gulping unsteadily, Deer Woman stared at the woman. “She is wasicun!”

Reaching over, Wolf gripped the maid by her arm. “In my eyes, she is a woman, sacred and deserving our goodwill, not our prejudice.”

Trying to master her unraveling emotions, Deer Woman pulled her arm away. Wolf had not hurt her. Instead, he’d merely made physical contact with her to emphasize his words. “So, if she wants to leave, you’ll let her?“ Hope rose once again in Deer Woman’s heart. Perhaps, if she could prove how good a mother she could be to Dawn Sky and could show him her sewing and cooking talents, Wolf would finally realize that she was the right woman to be his wife.

Harried, Wolf nodded. “I won’t force her to stay once she is well enough to go.“ Besides, she probably has a family and husband anxiously waiting for her, he thought.

Casting her eyes back to the robe she kneeled upon, Deer Woman whispered, “You called her Brave Heart. This is a special name, one that the wapiya of our village has chosen to give her.”

Smarting beneath the problems already surfacing, Wolf got up. He went over and arranged Deer Woman’s pallet. “She has earned the right to be called that,” he parried grimly. “And she has paid dearly for it.”

Chastised, Deer Woman nodded and scrambled to her feet. “Your wisdom has always been correct in such matters. Who am I to question the name you give her? The mighty spirits you work with know better. I am sorry.”

Throwing back one robe, Wolf rose slowly to his full height of six feet three inches. Deer Woman was small-boned, like a bird. And just as fragile emotionally, in his opinion. “Sleep with Dawn Sky in your arms. She won’t wake until Father Sun comes up. Then, take her over to Dove That Flies to be fed.”

Joy bubbled within Deer Woman as she looked up at Wolf’s harsh features. A smile of gratitude crossed her lips. “I will serve you well, Black Wolf. Soon you will see how good a mother and caretaker I am for you and yours.”

Disgruntled, and having no choice in the matter, Wolf went over to Cante Tinza to check on her one last time before going to sleep. “I am grateful for your help, but do not place any more importance than that to it,” he warned her darkly.

Drawing Dawn Sky’s cradleboard down beside where she would lie, Deer Woman nodded. She watched as Wolf’s set features melted with an undeniable concern as he crouched over the red-haired wasicun. Her heart ached because she saw Black Wolf’s gentle manner as he leaned over and touched the woman’s damp, wrinkled brow with a cloth. If only he would touch her in such a way. Sighing softly, Deer Woman lay down and closed her eyes so that she would not have to watch. Instead, she cuddled the cradleboard next to her, in which the baby slept soundly. Tomorrow was another day, a new day. One that brought promise that she could show Black Wolf how indispensable she was to his life.

* * *

The same soft, haunting chant began again in Serena’s head. Time had no meaning as she struggled upward, longing to hold on to each low note that the man sang. Each tone swept through her like a gentle wind, evoking and releasing emotions. Fighting as never before, Serena concentrated on opening and closing each of her fingers. As she did, her body became heavier and heavier until she felt as if it weighed hundreds of pounds.

The chant continued, interspersed with the gurgling sound of what could only be a tiny baby. Serena felt the pain leave her head as she heard the baby’s cooing and the deep, quiet laughter of a man nearby. Was she dreaming? Men did not sing like this. Men did not laugh. It must be some wild fabrication of her own, she thought, focusing now on opening her eyes. In her heart, Serena mused, she must have made up this man and his haunting voice that played her like an Irish harp. The baby was easily explained: she loved children. Especially the little ones.

Wolf laughed again, watching Dawn Sky’s dark brown eyes widen upon him. He sat cross-legged on the buffalo robe, holding his niece above him, smiling into her delighted features. Another day had slipped by quickly, and Father Sun had set hours ago. Deer Woman had excused herself earlier to wash some clothes down at the river, so he’d taken the opportunity to play with his niece.

With a monumental effort, Serena dragged open her eyes. At first, all she could see was a gray fog. Eventually, her eyesight began to clear and she realized it was dark except for the flickering of a small fire nearby. Weakly, she ran her hand against the buffalo robe, perplexed as to where she was. Visions of the river and miners struck her, and she winced with inward pain. Fear overtook her. Fear of men—of what they were capable of doing to her.

The sound of a man singing quieted the raging terror she felt within herself. Looking up, Serena saw huge tanned skins supported on long, thick poles, coming to an apex far above where she lay. Where was she? Forcing her head to move to the left, she focused her eyes.

An array of emotions battered Serena in those seconds after her gaze halted on him. It was a man, an Indian, she guessed, sitting across the way holding a small baby of the same skin color. Her eyes widened as she watched the dancing flickers of firelight bathe his large copper body. His face, despite its harsh lines and grooves, was filled with kindness. A smile eased those hard features as the baby cooed.

There was so much power waiting in coiled anticipation within the man. Serena sensed it, and tasted the fear of what he was capable of doing to her. The fact that he was naked with the exception of a breechclout frightened her. His shoulders were broad and capable, his chest powerful and his arms tightly muscled. The flatness of his belly, narrowness of his hips and muscularity of his thighs brought added terror to Serena. She’d never seen a man of such terrible beauty in her life. Kingston was flabby and weak in comparison. Her dread grew. Who was he? Was he Sioux? Serena, never having seen a Sioux, could only go on Lucinda’s description of their red color and their dress.

Her head pounded in agony. She tried to lift her hand, finding herself incredibly weak. Sweet Mary, how was she going to get out of this? Had Indians found her after she attacked the miners? They must have. A ragged sigh escaped Serena’s lips.

Wolf’s sharpened hearing heard the sigh. Could it be? Was Cante Tinza finally becoming conscious? Fighting back his sudden elation, Wolf turned his head, hoping against hope. It was then that he felt as if someone had knocked the air from his chest. Emerald eyes framed with thick red lashes stared back at him. His lips parted as he drowned in them in those sweet seconds afterward. Never had he seen such green and glorious eyes, so wide and filled with such intelligence.

Something was wrong. Wolf’s arms tightened momentarily around the baby in reaction. Plumbing the depths of those eyes, he felt her pain—her revulsion and fear. Yet, before he saw the shadow drown out all he’d fathomed, he’d seen her vulnerability, her gentleness. Holding on to that knowledge, Wolf carefully placed his niece back into the cradleboard and covered her up.

Serena gasped as she watched the man uncoil like a huge wild animal from where he sat. Desperation filled her, and she struggled to rise.

“No…“ Wolf cautioned, holding out his hand to her. His English was poor at best, having been taught by traders who used to visit the village when he was much younger. From halfway across the floor of the tepee, he could see the revulsion come to Cante Tinza’s eyes. “No harm…I mean you no harm. Understand?”

He was coming to get her. Memories of Kingston flashed before Serena’s eyes. One moment the face of this man stared at her, the next, the leering sneer of Kingston’s. Heart leaping to a rapid pound, throat constricted with a scream, Serena tried with all her will to move. It was impossible!

“No!” she cried, her voice cracking with weakness.

Panic struck Wolf. He watched the woman try to escape—to no avail. She was too weak from nearly a week with very little water and virtually no food. Her mewing plea shattered his heart and he crouched down on his heels, watching her. The language barrier was frustrating. Holding up both his hands in a sign of friendship, he waited to see if she would stop trying to escape.

“Friend,” he pleaded, “friend, do not hurt self.”

“You,” Serena shrieked, hysterical, “get away from me! I hate you! I hate you!”

Stunned by her screams, Wolf got up. He turned his back to her, stalking over to his pallet and his niece, where he sat down. What had he expected? She was wasicun and, therefore, hated all Indians. Angry, he glared at her as she struggled without reason. Sweat stood out on the woman’s face, her eyes large and filled with unadulterated hatred.

Why was he so stung by her denial of him? Wolf sat there, trying to digest his reaction. What was it about this red-haired one that tugged at his heart, making it feel more alive and more anguished than ever before? Her face was contorted with many emotions, and each one of them struck Wolf full force. Tasting bile in his mouth, he turned away, staring into the darkness of the tepee. Who did this woman think she was, anyway? Did red hair make her unreasonable? Couldn’t she see that he’d doctored her wounds, made her as comfortable as possible and given her shelter? What kind of rudeness pervaded women with red hair? Obviously, she was spoiled and deserved some stern measures. He’d tried to converse with her, to tell her that she was a friend, not an enemy—and certainly not a slave.

Disgusted, Wolf jerked his head up, glaring across the way at Cante Tinza. He laughed harshly at himself for giving her such a name. This kind of behavior wasn’t becoming to someone who carried such an honored name. Perhaps Little Swallow and Evening Star were wrong about her. In the heat of the attack, their imaginations might have made this red-haired one larger than life. Girding himself for another of her revilements of him, Wolf slowly unwound and got to his feet, holding her fearful look. Whether she liked it or not, he was going to tend and nurse her back to health. Walling off the disappointment in his heart, he strode purposefully toward her. As he drew closer, her shrieks got louder and louder. Crouching down, Wolf leaned forward. Just then, he saw her clawlike fingers come up, slashing out toward him as if she were a cornered cougar.